Cumbrian Herd
Issue #36
Spring 1985
They dally on succulent fields of ferment while days pitch away. Their jaws move in circles like a woman's seasoned fingers delving bins at a rummage sale—both know green's secret outposts in dark corners. And noses stroke the ground, hothouse...
Purchase an archive subscription to see the rest of this article.
Purchase an archive subscription to see the rest of this article.